Bacon Butty
by serennog
Summary: Sequel to 'Bottle of Jack'. Simmons cooks Fitz breakfast. ONE-SHOT.


**BACON BUTTY**

_by serennog_

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Summary: Sequel to 'Bottle of Jack'. Simmons cooks Fitz breakfast. ONE-SHOT.

Disclaimer: AoS is the property of Marvel and ABC Productions. I own nothing.

A/N: I'd just like to thank you all for your reviews, faves and alerts, plus reblogs and likes over on Tumblr re: _Bottle of Jack_. You guys are amazing. So I'm rewarding you with a sequel. Please take note, though, that **there will be no more instalments in the BoJ 'verse after this**.

A/N the second: I started writing this on Monday. The sandwich thing is totally coincidental.

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"You seem… chipper."

Jemma stopped humming, smiling wearily as she looked up from the task of frying bacon. "And a good morning to you too, Skye."

The hacker slipped into a nearby barstool, eying her friend concernedly. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Better than I thought I would," said Jemma with a carefully casual shrug. Truth was she'd woken in a cold sweat more than once, startled awake by the phantom sensation of falling. She smothered a shudder at the recollection and began turning over the rashers. "My dad swears by a full English breakfast as a hangover cure, but, well, we're missing all the components with the exception of bacon."

It took Skye a moment to decode the topic change. "Hangover? You've been-?"

"No, silly. It's for Fitz."

Skye blinked. "You… know about that?"

"I may have overheard you two," explained Jemma, blushing. "Not intentionally. I was coming to fetch water from the fridge, and you were…"

"Analysing Fitz's feelings for you," finished Skye with a grin. "Did you hear it all?"

"Pretty much."

"So you know he loves you."

Jemma rolled her eyes playfully. "I don't cook breakfast for just _any_ man, you know." She maneuvered the bacon onto a slice of bread, slathering the lot with ketchup before topping with a second slice. "Right. I'll see you in a bit."

"If he's not too sick-," called Skye after the other woman. "-I'll see you in _a lot_."

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Fitz was lying on his front atop the bedcovers in the white t-shirt and plaid boxers that passed for his pyjamas. And he was muttering in his sleep. Something about algorithms.

Jemma shook her head fondly. She crossed the narrow cabin in three short steps, placing Fitz's breakfast, a bottle of water, and a box of Advil on the miniscule bedside table then slowly eased herself onto the cot.

"Fitz. Wake up."

He groaned something unintelligible as she gently shook his shoulder, stirred, but didn't wake.

"Fitz…"

Before she could stop herself, Jemma started brushing back his hair. Something she'd wanted to do for as long as she'd known him. The tight curls were soft around her fingers and she felt her throat tighten as it struck her again how close she'd come to losing him. To losing _this_.

"Jemma?" He rolled gingerly onto his back, lying there blinking at her for a long moment.

Jemma smiled as she continued toying with his hair. "How do you feel?"

He grimaced. "Like my head's been trampled by Scotland's national rugby team." He sighed, shut his eyes and leaned into Jemma's touch. "Tastes like something's crawled into my mouth and died."

"Then you might want to brush your teeth before breakfast."

Fitz looked at her uncertainly at the mention of food.

"It'll make you feel better," she assured. "Promise."

He made a sound of concession and moved to sit up.

"Easy now." She smoothed a hand up and down his back as he hunched forward, head cradled in his hands. "I've brought you Advil, too."

"What would I do without you?"

The gravity of Fitz's offhanded comment made them both tense.

"Jemma…"

"Stop." She cupped his chin, urging him to meet her earnest gaze. "I'm here, and everything's fine."

He said nothing for a long moment. His eyes were a veritable maelstrom of emotion.

Finally, Fitz gently grasped Jemma's wrist, letting his thumb trace the pulse point in a way that made her shiver. "Just… promise me you won't do anything like that again."

She tearfully smiled. "You have my word."

He nodded his approval and slowly made to rise.

"Fitz."

"Hmm?"

Jemma was suddenly enthralled by the hands she was wringing in her lap. "I didn't say it before…" She swallowed, the memory of what she'd thought were her final moments on earth hitting her hard. "Didn't want to make it worse when I… you know."

The mattress sank beside her.

"Didn't say what?"

She looked at him, finding his blue eyes large with a mixture of curiosity and hope.

"That I love you. I have for a while."

Fitz smiled, and it was like a beacon in a dark place. Jemma committed the sight to memory.

"I suppose," said Fitz mischievously, "that this is the part where I kiss you senseless."

Jemma's heart flipped in anticipation, and she might have leaned towards him, but he was standing before she could do much more.

"But first…" He crossed to the tiny washbasin and proceeded to furiously brush his teeth.

Jemma watched with what she thought was probably a dopey smile on her face, and shrugged to herself.

They had time. Who knew how much, but they had it, and they'd make bloody good use of it.


End file.
